


strike the balance

by ymirjotunn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Collars, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymirjotunn/pseuds/ymirjotunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all the excitement, Gavin seemed to forget that there was a balance to be struck between the sexy stuff and the schmoopy stuff. And sure, it'd be great if everything was sexy all the time, but Gavin wasn't a sexbot, he was a human being, and the three of them intended to give him all the benefits of being one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. intervention

**Author's Note:**

> written for the ragehappy big bang 2014!! thank you very much to Chai for their help in making sure it wasn't a trainwreck <3
> 
> only content warnings here should be for some casual ableism here and there. enjoy!

Gavin knew something was very wrong the minute he stepped out of his room on Saturday morning to find everyone sitting in his living room. Geoff on the couch in front of the TV, his arms crossed a little too tightly for this to be something mundane - although when was something like this ever mundane? - Griffon leaning on the back of the couch with one hand on Geoff’s shoulder, massaging it, and Michael, who was looking kinda grouchy from the armchair. Gavin didn’t blame him; his own headache was killing him, and it was damn early in the morning, and nobody liked these types of gatherings. Whatever kind of gathering it was.

“Well,” he said, cheerfully despite his pounding brain, and everyone turned in a creepy tandem. He flushed. “I’m bloody _smashed_ , you guys, I could really use some tea. So if you don’t mind I’ll just.” He inched towards the kitchen.

But Griffon was on him in a second, dammit, her hand wrapped around his wrist. “Lucky you, we thought ahead. Tea’s still warm, on the coffee table. I made it how you like it.”

Gavin swallowed. “Right. Er.” He glanced at Michael and Geoff, and got indecipherable expressions back. Fantastic.

“Sit,” Griffon instructed, swinging around the couch to perch on the arm of it.

Gavin sat.

“Stop looking like you’re in trouble,” Geoff said, leaning forward to retrieve Gavin’s tea. “You’re not in trouble, okay? We just wanted to talk.”

“Brilliant,” Gavin mumbled, desolate, into his cup of tea. “Can it wait? Have I mentioned I’m hungover?”

“Yeah, yeah, aren’t we all.” Geoff waved him off, looking to Michael, who still looked half-asleep. “Michael? You wanna do the honors?”

“Sure,” Michael said, straightening a little. “I got myself into this, anyway.” He turned in his chair, eyes refocusing on Gavin’s face, and to Gavin’s horror, he grinned like a movie villain about to reveal his final scheme.

“Michael,” Gavin said, slightly terrified. What was that bloody _smirk_ for.

“Yesterday we talked,” Michael said, still with that unnerving grin. “Remember any of it?”

“I--ah--faintly--”

“Then you remember that you talked to me about your thing for being owned,” Michael continued, and Gavin shrunk in his seat, fiercely resisting a blush. That’d be the death of him for certain.

“I was _sloshed_ ,” he retorted. “Utterly mazzed off my nob. You can’t prove anything--”

“Mazzed?” Geoff interrupted. “We need to add that to the dictionary, huh?”

Gavin glared at his tea. “My point is, doesn’t matter what I said! I was drunk! Talking out my arse!”

“Talking out your ass, sure,” Michael said, that awful grin sneaking across his face again. “Weird how it got so specific, though. Did you know that apparently your ass wants to get collared? And then gangbanged by everyone in this room? And whored out and locked up at bedtime? ‘Cause, you know, that’s awfully advanced for an ass, talking or not. You might wanna get that checked out by a professional.”

Gavin’s face had gone scarlet. “I’m not--I didn’t--”

“Sweetie,” Griffon said, leaning over to steady his shaking wrists before he slopped tea on his legs. “It’s okay. We’re here to figure out how to get you that, okay?”

Gavin hunched over a little bit. “But the--you can’t possibly think this is okay, I’m gonna get _fired_ \--”

“You’re not getting fired, moron,” Geoff said, bumping into his legs; Gavin yelped and barely saved his tea. “Michael’s cool with giving you whatever you want, because of his gross boyfriend feelings for you, and we want to help because, hey, you’re our moron, so.” He shrugged, looking all nonchalant, but Gavin could feel warmth seeping up his spine, and not just because he’d had a sip of tea.

“Thanks,” he mumbled finally, still not un-hunching. “I--don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s fine,” Michael said, spreading his arms. “We practiced for you. C’mere, my lap’s cold. Don’t spill your fucking tea on me, though, or I swear I’ll revolt.”

Gavin still had to be crimson. “Right. Yeah.” He might’ve sloshed a little tea on his hand, but it wasn’t too hot, and when he settled in Michael’s lap and hands curled around his waist, suddenly his headache was worth it.

Michael pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, making him shiver, and mumbled into his skin, “If it makes you happy to do this stuff, I’m good with it. You get off on collars and locks, okay. You want to be with other people, that’s fine, long as you remember you’re _mine_.” Teeth grazed the skin of Gavin’s neck, and he shuddered.

“You look like you’re halfway to coming,” Geoff remarked.

“Means I’m doing my job,” Michael countered, and Gavin squeezed his hand in thanks.

“Here’s what we’re proposing, Gav,” Griffon said, slipping down to sit next to Geoff. “The two of you are together, business as usual, but having sex with either of us--or all of us, whatever you’re up for--is okay.”

Gavin glanced at Michael, got a pat on the leg as confirmation. He turned back to Griffon, swallowing his nerves. “Okay.”

“We’d make you up a collar,” Griffon continued. “Some other things, maybe. I’ve always wanted to try building kink gear.” She half-smiled. Probably thinking about what kind of wood she could carve a cage out of.

Gavin nodded, slowly. “Is that--”

“Yeah, Gav,” Michael said, squeezing a little. “It’s fine, you’re good, this is all okay. You wanna be our little pet?”

The grip on his tea loosened a little bit, and Gavin stared down at his lap, feeling inexplicably woozy until he realized he had forgotten to breathe for a minute.

“Gav,” Griffon said, gentle, concerned.

“‘m fine,” he said, looking up. “Just--lot to take in, innit? I never thought you’d all be so nice.”

“Don’t think we’re just doing this for you,” Geoff said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just as happy to get permission to tap that as you are to get leashed up.”

Gavin didn’t think that was true, but he smiled, hands closing around his tea mug. “Should we talk business, then?”

“Let’s write this down,” Griffon said, mirroring his giddy smile, and Geoff reached for the drawer of their coffee table to retrieve one of those notebooks they always brought back from the hotels, but she swatted his hand. “Let me. You’ve got terrible handwriting.”

She glanced up at Gavin. “First. We’re collaring you, right?”

Gavin felt a little dizzied just with the word. “If--yeah, yeah,” he said, when Michael’s hand draped over his thigh, a bit of reassurance, a bit of a reminder, a bit of an affectionate threat. _Speak up for yourself, you dumb idiot,_ Gavin could almost hear him saying.

“Okay,” she said, and scribbled something down. “So. The collar’s an invitation. We aren’t going to expect you to have it on all the time, because consent is more important than seeing you all prettied up in leather, but I don’t think it’s an invitation for sex, either, necessarily.” She considered this, glancing over at her husband.

“Invitation for us to do whatever we want with you,” he offered, and she nodded.

“Does that sound all right?”

Gavin stared, and Michael squeezed his thigh, and he bit back a little yelp of surprise. “Yeah. Yeah. That sounds--top. Really top.”

“I think to seal the deal there should be keys,” Michael said, from out of nowhere. “That’s like. If you own a car, you have its keys, right? Own a house, keys. Own a boat, keys, I guess, if it’s one that you turn on. Own a storage unit, keys.” Gavin felt him shrug. “You know. Seems logical.”

“Gavin?” It was Geoff this time, asking.

He nodded, swallowing. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” Michael said, squeezing his thigh once more, gentle. “It’s okay. We’re all friends and, I guess, fuckbuddies here, all right? Give us something meatier than just _yeah_.”

“Uh,” he said, leaning back into Michael’s warmth. “I dunno what to say, even. That it makes my spine go all tingly?”

Michael chuckled. “So it’s good.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Gavin said, with conviction. What else was he supposed to say? He couldn’t go into detail about the ways all of this snuck into his brain and crept around in his skull gleefully prodding all the bits that made his head go all fuzzy and his spine all warm. And they already knew he liked it, were already making enough of a sacrifice just sitting here doing all of this for him; they should be picking things that they wanted, not the other way around. Gavin was already happy. They ought to make it more tolerable for themselves.

“Gavin?” Geoff asked, in a voice like he’d already asked once. “You still with us, bud?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, shaking his head a little, like it’d clear the fogginess. “What’d you ask?”

“I can make us all one key,” Griffon said. She was doodling something up in the corner of the page, a design maybe. “And one for you, of course. I don’t expect you to carry it around too blatantly, or even necessarily carry it around at all, but if you need a break, all you have to do is get your key and unlock it. No stress to ask us, no outside involvement necessary. Just you doing what makes you comfortable. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Gavin nodded again. “I...uh. Yeah.”

Michael patted his side. “Chill, boy. Your heart is going a mile a minute.”

“Can’t help it! This tea isn’t decaf and you surprised me and I’m excited,” Gavin said, all in a rush, leaning into his side. “I wanna do it.”

“You said you wanted to be whored out, too,” Michael said, tapping his nose with fondness. “Tell us about that.”

Gavin stared at him. “Uh, um.”

“Take your time,” Geoff said, in that dry voice of his that meant he was getting impatient, but when Gavin looked up he was faintly smiling.

“You guys…” he said at last. “You guys should be my proper owners, right, but. You can use me for whatever you like? So you can use me if you’re feeling, whatsit, voyeuristic. And it’d be fun. Knowing I’m yours and they’re just getting to. Borrow me.” His cheeks were so hot he thought they might actually be on fire.

Geoff was grinning like an idiot. “That’s fucking adorable.”

“‘s not--”

“It’s adorable,” Griffon informed him, and Michael hugged him around the waist, like he was agreeing. Traitorous, absolutely traitorous. Gavin was an _adult_. Adults and adorable weren’t supposed to mix, he was pretty sure.

“So we get to whore you out,” Michael said, chin set on his shoulder. “Cute. What do we get to do, reserve the right to give you to whoever we want to?”

“With consent,” Griffon added.

Gavin nodded again. “Yeah. Yes. I want you to decide who’s allowed to use me.”

“Does this include getting you to do video edits?” Geoff was stroking his beard - so absently that Gavin wasn’t even sure he was conscious of it - like this was a real thing he was considering. “I mean, can I just cop off my editing shit on you? We have a GTA thing that I really don’t wanna--”

Griffon elbowed him right in the ribs. “Geoff, we’re going for sexy. Work isn’t sexy. Keep work out of it. There’s another rule, no interruptions during serious work stuff, even if his collar is on. And absolutely no teasing during videos. The entire Internet doesn’t need to know about this.”

In his own head Gavin added the word _yet_ to that sentence.

“Actually,” Michael said, in such a voice that Gavin just knew he’d have that devilish grin on, if he turned around, “work might be sexy. How about keyholders get to decide what you mean by ‘serious’? Like, if he’s just waiting for something to upload, could I steal him away? In theory. I mean, take him to the janitor closet, or something.”

Geoff snorted. “Still not sexy.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Gavin said, trying to hold back his enthusiasm. “I like--well, someone could find us, during, right? The threat of that is nice. I dunno if I would call it a threat but it’s nice. Anybody who found me would just know for sure whose I was.”

“They already know you’re mine, though,” Michael said. His hands were dangerously active on Gavin’s thighs.

Gavin sighed at him. “Yeah, but they haven’t seen the collar yet, have they? And what if it’s Geoff who took me to a janitor closet?”

“Do we even have janitor closets?”

Gavin scowled at Geoff. “Well, speaking hypothetically, right! If we did, and you fucked me in one, and somebody found us, I’d come right there!”

There was a noise like a mouse’s squeak, and then it happened again, and then Gavin looked over to Griffon accusingly as she burst into uncontrollable giggles. “Not funny,” he said stubbornly. “It’s hot, all right, don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, sweetie,” she said, half-recovered, still chuckling a little. “I’m just, fuck, you’re adorable. And I’m--we’re so glad we get to have you like this.”

“I’m not adorable! Babies are adorable. I am a grown man,” Gavin said, barely even indignant.

"An adorable grown man," Griffon said, still grinning. "Can a grown man choose a safeword?"

"A what-who?"

"Safeword," she repeated, revealing nothing. "If you want to stop, you have to say something that will let us know it's time to quit."

Gavin blinked. "Why would I want to quit?"

"If we're going too hard on you," Michael said, chin resting on his shoulder. "Or if you get overwhelmed, all that."

"Why can't I just say stop?"

"Because you might say that in a normal scene," Griffon said, with an eerie confidence that made Gavin wonder, with some trepidation, how far she and Geoff had gone in the bedroom, before. "It's fine, just choose a word you wouldn't normally say during sex."

Gavin considered this. "Uh," he said at last. "That's--that's not my safeword, I just don't know what to say."

“You could just use green-yellow-red,” Geoff said. “Y’know. Like stoplights.” Gavin looked up at him with wide eyes and decided to just not ask. He’d probably end up finding out, anyway, now that he was--shacking up with them. Was that something he could safely call it?

“Gav,” Michael said, knocking on his shoulder like it was a door. “Still there, numb-nuts?”

“Wha, yeah, yeah,” Gavin said, blinking fast. “What if. How about I just yell _fish_ really loudly? Wouldn’t say that during a shag, would I?”

Michael stood up very suddenly, and Gavin slid onto the floor with a quiet yelp. “Mi-chael!”

“This kid,” Michael said, pointing down at him from above, “is a fucking dork extraordinaire, and I will not stand for it. Seriously. Does anybody else want me to, like, toast a Pop-Tart?”

Geoff raised his hand.

“I was serious,” Gavin protested from the ground.

“A Pop-Tart and a screwdriver,” Michael amended, and ducked out for a moment.

Gavin pouted, leaning back, up against the chair. “Fine, killjoys! Green-yellow-red, then. What else do I need?”

Griffon stood, presenting her hand. “A collar and some keys. Come on, sweetie, we’ll let the boys drink themselves out of a hangover and you and me can have some fun.”

Gavin could’ve sworn she winked.

* * *

They ended up in her workshop, Gavin’s knees tucked into his chest as he sat up against the wall, curiously watching her arrange her tools on the workbench. Some of them looked like they could lop off a head. Griffon had to be some...goddess of war and tattoos, really, Gavin was sure of it. “Can I help?”

She glanced up, smiling down at him. Benevolent goddess, then, that was a relief. “Yeah, sweetheart, of course. Come on up, sit on the table, I promise I won’t bevel your nose even if it could use it.”

Gavin gave her a glare - entirely fake - and hopped on up, swinging his legs. “I have to ask,” he said, more shyly than he would’ve liked, “did you have that leather on hand already? Or did you buy it special?”

“Special, of course,” Griffon said, businesslike, as if this were something she did on the daily. “Why would I make you something that wasn’t special, boy? Head down.”

Gavin stared at her, bewildered, and she just rolled her eyes and put a hand on the back of his skull and pushed down. He went along with it, automatically, and when it was her hand on the back of his neck brushing up against the little hairs on his neck and him staring at his crotch in confused disbelief, it was like a dream. Better than a dream, actually, because he’d dreamt something similar to this before, but this was actually _happening_.

“Tell me when it’s too tight,” Griffon said, gentle, from somewhere outside Gavin’s immediate space, and then the warmness of her body moved in closer until her stomach was pressed up against Gavin’s knees, her hands brushing over the back of his neck and making his spine go bloody nuts.

Cool leather wrapped around his neck, and tugged, slowly, and he was thankful for that, taking deep breaths and swallowing to test it. “‘s still good.”

“You want it tight?” Ever-so-casual. Like she wasn’t discussing a bloody sex accessory.

Gavin swallowed, glad that he was staring down so she couldn’t see the flush of his cheeks. “Yeah. Yes. Please.”

“Good boy with those manners,” she said, in a low voice, and he thought he might’ve tipped over a bit, but she kept him steady, drawing the leather a little tighter until he couldn’t swallow without feeling it pull at his Adam’s apple, could feel it touching every bit of skin on his neck.

The lining was soft, like a really expensive scarf, and he sighed. “Griffon.”

“Yeah, hon?”

“Right here.”

She hummed her approval, and the leather was gone in another moment. “All right, thanks, Gav. You want to look up now?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling like a damn puppy, and looked up at her with a grin. “I’m good, right?”

“So good,” she said, returning the grin, and squeezed his leg. “You like the lining, don’t you? I picked that out special, too.”

“Feels really nice,” he said, watching her pick up a rather imposing knife. It was the first chance he’d gotten to actually look at what she’d picked out: a reddish-brown material that looked soft on the outside, even, with darker forest-green lining on the inside. He wanted to touch it all over, supposed he’d get there soon enough, and didn’t want to hazard the large knife, either, so he let her at it without interruption. “What’s gonna go on it?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Studs don’t really seem to be your thing,” she said, shrugging. “We’ll see how it goes. Can you pass me the awl?”

“An--”

“The pokey thing.”

“Right, yeah, yeah.” He handed her the pokey thing. “What about the keys? You’re no locksmith, I mean. You’re just about everything under the sun but maybe not a locksmith.”

She smiled. “I’ve got friends in every place under the sun, at least. Top drawer in my desk, if you’re interested.”

Gavin hopped down off the table without further encouragement - not as if he needed much - and opened it to find four perfectly-formed golden keys and one little padlock. He picked it up, rolling it around between his fingers, and picked up a key, too, a little smaller than the size of his house keys, and glanced back.

Griffon was holding something squarish and a little terrifying, and he must’ve looked bewildered because she explained, “Skiving tool. You like them?”

“Am I the golden type?” he asked, holding out the key.

She grinned. “Obviously. What, are you under the impression that you’re not a precious metal? Put that back and come here, boy, you can fiddle with ‘em later.”

“Mm,” Gavin said, ducking his head, settled down on the table to watch her scrape away the edges of the leather. “How did this happen?”

“You’re askin’ me,” Griffon said under her breath, and shrugged. “Michael brought you home mostly-asleep, told the two of us you’d been talking about kink all night and it was out of his league. Obviously we’re adults, it’s not going to kill us to share you.”

“I thought you were gonna be angry,” Gavin said, kicking his legs a little bit, until her hand shot out and stilled his thighs.

“Only angry if you kick over the dollhouse I’m working on underneath the table,” she said, voice measured, and he stopped, flushing. “Why would we be angry at you for wanting something?”

“Well, it’s inconvenient, yeah?”

She glanced up from her work then, half-smiling. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Yeah! I’m--you were all established in things, before I showed up. ‘s weird. And unprofessional, probably, given Geoff’s my boss--”

“And Michael’s your coworker, and I’m your boss’s wife, boo-hoo. We’re all still adults. Nobody minds.” She flicked his nose and he gasped, indignant, hand coming up to protect it. “Trust me. Minding is the last thing on our minds.”

“Okay,” he said, still a little uncertain, but she didn’t seem to notice, just went back to scraping down the leather.

Griffon was cutting a space for the buckle when he started getting antsy again, wriggling on the table, and then she set down the knife and stared up at him, a wry grin on her face. “You’re a fucking child, you know that?”

“Hm?” he said, stilling almost immediately, guiltily.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute,” she said, stepping a little closer, “but Christ, I can’t get any work done around you. Like I’ve got to be paying attention to you.”

“You don--”

A kiss, warm and sweet and very Griffon, and he melted under it, back arching as he made room for the pressure and weight of her body pushing down on his, until his shoulders made contact with the table and he had nowhere to run.

And then the weight was off of him again and he gasped for breath, wanting it back, and Griffon’s face loomed over his, looking stern. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green for go,” he said, licking his lips. “Yellow for slow. Red for get off’m me.”

“Good boy,” she whispered, and pulled herself up on top of him, and he lay there sprawled out on a workshop table underneath a woman who kissed like sugar melted into tea. The collar, he thought, a little dizzily, could wait, because her hands were on his shoulders like they’d twist him round if he started facing the wrong way and he didn’t think he needed much more to show ownership than that.


	2. heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin gets an introduction.

“So my wife had her way with you,” Geoff said, all amused.

Gavin focused very hard on the Minecraft creative screen. “Uh, I dunno where you heard that rumor--”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing the collar,” Geoff said, and he’d gone and paused the Minecraft world, dammit. “Also, she’s my wife. You seem to forget that.” He twisted and out of nowhere there was a finger hooked into the collar, and Gavin swallowed hard. “How’s it fit, kiddo?”

“Don’t call me kiddo when you’re lookin’ at me like that,” Gavin croaked.

“Like what?”

“Like a--a bollocksing hyena eyeing its prey, is what!” Gavin wanted to wriggle away, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to wriggle away at all, so he just stayed there, awkwardly bent over with his head sort of hovering a few inches above Geoff’s shoulder.

“Aw, you’re not my prey, Gavvers.” Geoff yanked his face up, and then he was looking at him, grinning. “So I can tell you to do whatever I want and you’re into that?”

Gavin glared. “Don’t abuse it.”

Geoff waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, the wife already cleared that up. Kiss me.”

Gavin stared at him. “Ah. Uh. I’m allowed to--”

“Did you not hear me, or something? I said kiss me, you dumb British prick, don’t make me ask again.”

His voice had taken on this sharpness, and it was like he’d practiced, and Gavin swallowed, tipping a little closer to kiss him. It was sort of strange, kissing not-Michael - although that hadn’t stopped him with Griffon - but good, too, warm and careful and stubbly. And then there was the hand still hooked into his collar, and that wasn’t something he’d had yet but he wanted more of it. Preferably several hours’ worth.

“So I’m gonna fuck you into the couch, that cool?” The hand was circling the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing behind his ear, and Gavin leaned back, blinking at him.

“Gonna get it messy,” Gavin said, licking his lips. “Did you clear that up with the wife, too, Geoff? Getting jizz all over the sofa?”

“It’s leather,” came another familiar voice, and Gavin couldn’t tell if his heart sunk or buoyed its way to the edge of his throat. “It’ll wipe right up.”

Geoff turned, his hand still tucked into the collar, and kissed his wife as she perched on the arm of the sofa. “Thanks for backin’ me up.”

“No problem,” she said, dropping a condom and a bottle of something - lube, probably, on the cushions, and then she leaned back against the top of the couch, still smiling. It was obvious she wasn’t going to leave, and Gavin’s heart still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. It was still beating faster, but from being turned on or being bloody terrified, well...who could tell?

“Take your pants off,” Geoff said, turned back to Gavin now, his eyes critical. “Actually, fuck it, take everything off. I’d ask you to give us a little strip show, but god only knows how that’d turn out.” His hand slipped out of the collar and he gestured for Gavin to stand.

Gavin stood, with hands shaking just a little bit, and started to undress. He glanced up when his shirt was stuck halfway up off of his head, and Geoff was grinning at him, watching him like he was a home movie. Gavin colored, looked back down at himself to finish this task. He was better than a home movie, wasn’t he? Michael seemed to think so. Then again, he was kind of pushing the Ramseys into this.

He swallowed, fingers pausing at his fly. Maybe he should rethink…

But Geoff had noticed and had reached out with one hand, fingers wrapped around Gavin’s wrist. “Camera-shy?” he asked. “Weren’t for her.” He jerked his head in Griffon’s direction.

“Not camera-shy, was just thinkin’,” Gavin said, wriggling out of Geoff’s grip to do it himself, but the hand was back again in another second, tugging him closer.

“Clearly you’re too busy thinking, for once, to get the job done, so I’m gonna do it,” Geoff said, in that sharp voice again. “Chill out, Gav, I got this. You just relax and enjoy the show, okay?” Gavin went a little slack - not totally slack, because his thoughts were still racing, but slack enough that Geoff let his hand fall to his hip and started to undo his jeans for him.

“Step out of those, I don’t want them hanging around your ankles when we fuck,” Geoff ordered. Gavin did, slowly, keeping his eyes on him to watch for any signs that he wasn’t having fun. “What’s your deal, Gavino? You’re slow as dicks today. Tired, lazy--”

“Gav,” Griffon interrupted, just a soft presence on one end of the couch. “You can safeword out, if you need.”

Gavin glanced at her, then back at Geoff, and back at her again. No, he wanted to say, _Geoff_ can safeword out if he needs, but he couldn’t get the words out. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” Geoff said, reaching around his arse and yanking him onto the couch by his tailbone. “So you’re cool with this, then?”

Gavin shut his mouth, nodded, slid down the couch a little. They wanted him to relax into it. He could do that.

Geoff grinned. “Cool. Except. You took your sweet time, so…” He reached back for the lube, shook some into one hand and spread Gavin’s thighs apart with the other. “You won’t mind if I take mine, right?”

Gavin stared up at him. “Uh.”

“Gonna take that as a yes,” Geoff murmured, sliding down on top of him to kiss him, his weight a safety blanket settled on top of Gavin’s skin for a few moments.

And then there was cold, cold lube on his thighs, and Gavin yelped, twisting underneath Geoff as he laughed like a bloody hyena. “Sorry! Sorry. Fuck, I couldn’t help myself, did you hear yourself yell?”

“Arsehole,” Gavin said, muffled under Geoff. “Are you gonna…”

“Am I gonna what?” Geoff pulled back, fingers ghosting over Gavin’s chest and catching in his hair. “Am I gonna fuck you? Are you gonna say the words?”

Gavin blinked. “Do I have to?”

“Yeah,” Geoff said, his hand coming to rest at Gavin’s cock and curling around the base. “I want you to.”

Well. Not polite to make him ask more than once. “Fuck me,” Gavin said, so nervous that he came across breathy, almost accidentally sexy. “Please.”

Geoff grinned wider, a predator’s smile, and undid his pants. “All manners now, huh?”

“Have I ever been rude to you, Geoffrey?” Gavin said, snorting because he was as a matter of principle, and obviously Geoff got the joke because he squeezed Gavin’s dick, just hard enough to make Gavin yelp.

“Jokes are all well and good, but we’re talking business now,” Geoff said, snapping back to his sharpness. “Got it?”

Gavin nodded, once, stayed quiet. Geoff, he knew, liked to be the one talking, when they were talking business. Whatever kind of business sex was supposed to be.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and I want you to stay still.” His hand was moving along Gavin’s dick again, almost absently. “Think you can handle that? If you can’t I’ll just have Griffon come hold you down.”

"I can handle it," Gavin said quickly, spreading his legs a little wider.

Geoff looked pleased; Gavin made his shoulders relax. He didn't look like he was hating this. Actually, he looked ready to get on with it, and Gavin would agree. "All right. No talking, either, all right? Am I forgetting anything?" There was a flash in his eyes, something like uncertainty. Gavin stiffened again at once.

There was a hand on Geoff's shoulder, then - Griffon's - and she leaned forward to murmur something and Geoff nodded. "Ask if you need to move, okay? For whatever reason. Or safeword. Either works."

"Okay."

"Quit looking so stiff," Griffon said, hopping off the couch. She went around to Gavin's back, and Gavin couldn't see her but he heard her kneel and felt her hands on his shoulders, working at his muscles. "Relax. You expect him to fuck you when you're wound tighter than a rubber band?"

"Uh, no," Gavin began, and stopped. Not supposed to talk.

"Good boy," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You stopped. That's good."

He really relaxed, then, closing his eyes. He'd be less tempted to move if he couldn't see.

And like that it was a surprise, too, when Geoff slid into him, latex-y but still warm and smooth and careful. Griffon's hands were still on his shoulders, holding him steady and digging thumbs into his muscles, and when Geoff's care started to wear down - when he figured out his rhythm and realized he wasn't gonna push Gavin off the couch - she was there to grab his sides and adjust him, keep him steady. Geoff seemed to get the idea a moment later, because out of nowhere there were hands on Gavin's thighs, pressing them down into the couch.

He felt like a doll, like one of those life-size sex toys, like he was just there for someone to fuck his hips into ragdoll submission, and it was one of the most blissful things he'd felt in ages. There was a split second where he thought, honestly, that he should've talked to everyone about this much earlier, just let things happen, and then he gasped and his eyes flew open. Made a noise.

"Oh, shite," he said, about to let loose a string of babbling, his mouth opening again to apologize - after all, Geoff had slowed a little, and his eyes were fixed on Gavin's like he was about to be critical - but Griffon's face was suddenly in the way of his field of vision.

"Sweetheart, nobody's perfect," she said, like it was funny, and kissed him, kneeling again at the side of the couch to put both hands on his chest. "You're just about as close as it gets. Geoff, don't stop now, you were on a roll."

Gavin kept his eyes open for the rest, flickering between Geoff and Griffon with a mixture of gratefulness and nervousness, but it wasn't until Geoff came, patting his thighs and grinning like he'd just finished running a marathon, that he let a single muscle twitch, coming and arching off the leather couch, sliding in his own sweat.

His jaw was still sort of locked by the time Griffon helped him sit up, still rubbing at his back. "You're good," she murmured, kissing his cheek and jaw and then his lips. "You're more than good."

"I did it wrong," he said, to Geoff, apologetic. "I won't do that next time."

"Nah, buddy, you did better than I could've," Geoff said, pushing around his wife so he could sit on Gavin's lap and kiss at his neck. Great, now he had both the Ramseys kissing at him. Maybe that was a dream come true, but it was also very difficult for his dick to take, since it wanted very much to get back into the thick of things. "Michael and us, we have something planned for the weekend, you'll do better then. Won't you?"

"Yeah," Gavin said, breathing it. "Yeah."

* * *

But Michael didn’t wait til the weekend.

Michael - to be more accurate, Michael’s hand - snagged him from around the corner at work, pulled him up against the wall into a kiss that was pretty much definitely not appropriate for a professional environment, and then Gavin was released, sort of, one warm hand still hooked into the back of his collar.

“Hey, boy,” Michael said, cheerful as he swung around him and started pulling. “So, progress report?”

“Ow,” Gavin said in response, bending his head to keep up with him. Why was he pulling from the bloody waist? “Could you--Michael, I’ll follow you, you don’t have to be pulling on my neck--”

“Oh, but I do,” Michael said, and if Gavin could twist his head without it falling off, he was certain he’d see a wicked grin on his face. “We’re going to the janitor closet, and you’re going to tell me exactly what they did with you, and then I’m gonna do it better.”

“If you’ve got jealousy issues, I think that’s something you’re supposed to work out with the Ramseys--”

Michael pulled him to a halt in the middle of the hallway, twisted until they were facing each other, and grinned up at him just before he yanked him down to eye-level. “Nah. I’m not jealous. I’m just the best.” Gavin could feel his breath ghosting over his lips, but the hand at the back of his neck was holding him too far away to actually make contact. Had to be on purpose.

He didn’t notice Geoff walking down the hallway until the swat on the ass and his own ensuing yelp, and then he was released so Michael could shout down after him. “Ay!”

“Keep up the hard work, fuckers!” Geoff yelled back, not bothering to glance back, and apparently Michael took that as encouragement, because the hand was back at his neck and dragging him down the hall again.

He’d like to say he minded, and yet.

“You weren’t doing anything, right?” Michael asked as they reached the closet. “Nothing important?”

“Other than work?” Gavin grumbled, albeit with less bite than he’d intended. The pressure on his neck was a little more effective than he’d like to say it was. “Nah. Not saving the world or nothing.”

“Why’re you so mopey about this?” Michael got to the door first, kicked it open and pushed Gavin in first into the dark. “Thought this was one of those fantasies, or is this just for dramatic effect?”

“Ah,” Gavin said, glancing first at the wall and then at Michael’s free hand moving to the doorknob, not the light switch. “What about the--”

“Lights?” The door clicked shut and the lights were definitely not on. “Yeah, lights, that’s what I’m looking for. Come on, boy. Green, yellow, red, which one?” His hand was worked all the way under Gavin’s collar now, tickling the hair at the back of his neck, pulling the leather so taut that when Gavin swallowed he could feel his throat ripple.

“Green,” Gavin croaked, wishing he could nod emphatically or that it would even matter in the pitch black, “green but ease up, can’t breathe.”

“If you can talk you can breathe,” Michael mumbled, but the pressure eased, anyway, because he’d withdrawn his hand so it was free to pull at Gavin’s jeans.

Gavin tipped his head back so he could focus, surprised when the back of his skull smacked into the wall, and would’ve stumbled forward if Michael’s hands hadn’t been on his hips. “Chill, boy,” he said, sounding amused. “I know you want all over me, but I got something else in mind. Siddown.”

“How’m I supposed to know I won’t sit on a, a, a rake or something?”

“You think we have a fucking rake in our janitor closet? Sit _down_.”

Gavin sat. He felt around him, a little meaningless after he’d already put his arse down on potentially dangerous territory, but Michael probably wouldn’t want him to sit on a rake, he thought, and it seemed like there was nothing around him, anyway. Just floor.

“Lie down,” Michael said. There was a hand at his chest, so Gavin suspected he’d be lying down whether or not he did it himself. The choice was in whether or not he wanted to bang up his head again.

“On the floor?”

Michael said nothing, just pushed him back a little, and Gavin could take a hint or several, so he scooted forward and lay down, blinking up at the darkness of the ceiling.

“Ass up,” Michael said, so Gavin cooperated, letting him drag his jeans down to his knees, and he was fine with that until Michael got to his boxers.

“Hold on, this is a bollocksing janitor closet,” he objected. “I’m not--there could be piss on the floor!”

“First of all,” Michael said, his chin resting on Gavin’s bent knees, “there’s not piss on the floor. Second of all, are you safewording or can I keep going?”

Gavin was silent, weighing his options. There probably wasn’t piss on the floor, but there might be the remains of piss. Evaporated piss. Piss stains.

“Are you safewording?” Michael repeated.

“Green,” he mumbled at last, and Michael made a pleased noise, yanking his boxers down.

“All right, boy. Ass down.”

Gavin lowered it cautiously, nervous that he’d be putting it right into a pool of something warm, but it hit soft fabric instead, and he yelped in surprise.

Michael, predictably, burst into laughter. “Fuck,” he said, snickering into Gavin’s knee, like the asshole that he was. “Come on, you think that little of me, Gavvers? I had the common decency to put a blanket down first, Jesus. Come on, legs up, I’m not gonna lie on your nasty-ass boxers.”

“What’re we doing?” Gavin asked, curious, even though he felt like a toddler with his legs in the air as Michael wriggled off his trousers. “Do I get to know?”

Michael snorted. “Fuck no. I’m in charge, remember?” He dumped his clothes on the floor. “Or do we need to tighten up that collar again, remind you?”

“No no no, you won’t be able to get your hand into it anymore. I _like_ that.”

“Mmm.” Michael’s touch on his legs disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, on his hips, forcing Gavin to spread his legs and make room. “Safeword?”

“Green,” Gavin said, nearly automatically.

“Cool.” Gavin waited a moment and then there was a warm tongue, licking up the base of his cock. His hips went up, partially in surprise and partially because he wanted more of it, and promptly were pushed down again. That combined with the loss of the tongue was enough to make him whine.

“Aw, shut it, you baby. We’re playing on my terms, remember that?” Michael gave his stomach a firm pat. “Keep those down. That’s simple, right? Can you handle it?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, a little sulkily, but Michael was right: the mope, at this point, was definitely all for dramatic effect.

He waited another minute, there in the dark, and was about to ask Michael what the deal was when the warmth came back, all around the tip of his cock, and he had to stuff a few fingers in his mouth just to hold back a mewl that Michael definitely would’ve laughed about. The darkness was weird and not something he was too happy about, given that he liked to see Michael’s face, but it was good at surprising him, and that was probably Michael’s intent.

The occasional footsteps outside were just as perfect, because every time he heard them his heart went off the bloody charts, but it was the vague shuffling outside the door like someone might come in that was better, because then Michael got nervous, too: slowed down, tightened his grip on Gavin’s hips, locked his elbows in on Gavin’s thighs like that would protect him from the inevitable humiliation of being half-naked in a janitor’s closet during work hours.

“ _Shit!_ ” A loud smack against the wall, the sound of papers spilling everywhere.

Michael hunched down so far his forehead touched Gavin’s happy trail, and Gavin had to bite the side of his hand, he was so close to coming. He suspected Michael was breathing along the side of his dick on purpose, to mess with him, which pissed him off a bit. As if the situation itself wasn’t already turning him on enough.

“Okay, you fucking win,” the voice called from outside. “At least clean it up while I get my wallet, dicksauce.”

There was laughter from out there, too - Gavin couldn’t quite place it, Blaine maybe - and then the doorknob rattled and Gavin was _positive_ his heart stopped for maybe three seconds, Michael’s grip so tight on his hips there’d be bruises.

“This one’s locked, man.”

“Check the one on the other side, then, lazy-ass.”

When the footsteps faded out, Gavin let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and when Michael let out a breath of relief and dragged his hands over Gavin’s thighs he couldn’t help but come with a bitten-off sigh. The idea that Michael would’ve protected him if they’d been discovered was almost too much to handle.

“Fuck!” Michael sat up, laughing, poked Gavin in the thigh. “Dude, is that all it takes? I could’ve recorded something like that and saved myself a goddamn heart attack or two.”

“Oops,” Gavin managed to say, all of him gone boneless despite the ache in his neck, probably from keeping nervous-tight for so long. “You gonna...am I gonna get you off?”

“Fuck no, little boy.” Michael leaned around his body to kiss him from the side. “I’m not taking the risk of being naked at work, unlike some idiots I know, but you owe me, capiche?”

Gavin felt a little guilty for that, despite the playfulness in Michael’s voice, but he nodded, realizing too late Michael couldn’t see it as he sat up. “Capiche. Lights?”

“Right-o.” Michael’s presence was gone for a moment and then the light from the ceiling practically blinded Gavin as it came on.

When his vision adjusted he glanced down at his crotch and winced. “Shite,” he mumbled, leaning back on his hands. “Mi-chael. _Lovely_ boy. Could you, ah. For one, tissues, for two, the belt?”

“The belt?” Michael crouched, looking vaguely amused.

Gavin glared. “The versus belt, wanker. I’m not going outside with cum stains all over the hem of my shirt.”

“Hey, it’s on your shoulders, not mine.” Michael yanked him forward to give him a quick kiss and released him just as quickly, smiling all fondly. “That was good, though, right? Since you’re into cardiac arrest as something sexy, apparently?”

“Yeah,” Gavin was quick to say. “Yeah, hell, _definitely_. Just. I really gotta make sure Final Cut’s not dead on me and the guys are gonna ask questions and--”

“You think they’re not gonna ask questions when you refuse to take off the versus belt? It’s Jack’s right now, too. Gonna have to buy a new one so he doesn’t have to wear your cum crud.” He stood, ruffling Gavin’s hair in the process. “Okay. One second. Don’t hop around outside pantsless or anything, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay,” Gavin said, scooting back until he was sitting up against the wall.

Michael unlocked the door, glanced around outside, apparently deemed the coast clear, and ducked out; Gavin grabbed his boxers, in case he needed a quick cover-up, and waited.

To pass the time he glanced around. Michael had definitely been plotting this a while. Everything was on the shelves, away from where they’d be lying down - including a broom, which was perched rather precariously - and there was a blanket spread out all over the floor.

“Don’t shit yourself, it’s just me,” Michael said, pushing open the door and locking it behind him. “You like my handiwork?”

“Wish you’d brought a pillow, but yeah,” Gavin said, grinning up at him. “Thanks.”

Michael shrugged. “You mentioned it, I just set it into motion. I might’ve also, uh, egged Blaine on a little bit, with the prank he pulled on Brandon earlier, but. Don’t go spreading that rumor around, though.” He went at Gavin with some damp tissues before Gavin could even protest that it was his job to clean himself up.

“Thanks,” he said, soft. “Really.” That was...unexpected.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy.” Coming from the boy who leaned forward and kissed Gavin’s forehead after he was done cleaning him up. “Pants on, Gav, Ray’s asking pointed questions and Geoff might be having an aneurysm.”

“Expected,” Gavin said, pulling on his clothes and standing. “Belt?”

Michael snickered, held it out. “Yup. You’re gonna look like a fucking dork.”

“I’m gonna look like a fucking dork,” Gavin said, proudly pulling it on over his head, “who just got laid in a closet. It’s still a win, Michael Jones.”

* * *

Friday, Gavin was all jitters, largely because Geoff and Michael kept shooting each other looks like hungry pack wolves ready to get at a herd of lambs, and Gavin was pretty sure he knew who the lamb was in this scenario, wasn't even sure he minded.

Sure enough, when he got home there were bevs on the living room table, movies scattered in front of them, and two bowls of warm popcorn tucked into the couch cushions. Griffon was nowhere to be seen, but Michael had come home with them, was taking off his jacket in the hall, and Geoff was sliding onto the couch and patting his lap. That was an offer Gavin wasn't about to pass up.

He expected them to be taking off clothes, other clothes than just jackets, but none of them did, not even when Griffon came in - presumably from her workshop, because she was covered in enough sawdust to make Gavin sneeze - to ask if they wanted her to order the pizzas. They just sat there watching The Bourne Supremacy movies, being awful, teasing, tracing patterns on Gavin's jeans. He wanted to rip them off, demand that they do something about the way his dick was half-hard already, but he doubted they'd listen. They were still giving each other those wolfish looks, and when the pizza came and Griffon returned freshly showered, she joined in on them. They were all _terrible_.

At the end of the second movie Gavin twisted in Michael's lap - he'd been shuffled over after Geoff claimed his feet were falling asleep - and said, loudly over the noise of the credits, "So what's tonight supposed to be, huh? Are you guys going to fuck me or no?"

"Nope," Michael said, that same wolfish grin widening on his face. "Not yet."

"Yet? What's that supposed to mean?"

Griffon leaned forward to pluck another piece of pizza from the table. "Aw, come on, Gav, you went to first grade, didn't you? Not yet means later."

"When's later?!"

"When you're patient," Geoff said, bumping into Gavin with his knee.

"Aw, Geoff, that's no fair," Michael said, smirking. "How's he ever gonna get any under those conditions?" Gavin filed him under 'traitor'.

"Stop talking me in circles and explain," Gavin said, leaning back on Michael. He threw his arms and legs every which way, to make sure he was a big enough annoyance to merit an explanation.

"Gav," Michael said, firmly biting the tip of his ear, which made him yelp and nearly jump off his lap, which made him drop his pizza plate on the floor.

By the time Gavin had finished cleaning up that mess, they'd stopped laughing, and Michael reached down to tap him on the head. "Hey. No need to mope, okay? We got something for you, that's for sure, but it's happening tomorrow. So take a coupla deep breaths, give us all a little kiss, and we can watch this last movie before we set up the sleeping bags in here."

Gavin brightened. "Sleeping bags?"

It wasn't any easier to make it through the third movie, especially because Griffon kept licking her lips at him, but at least Gavin was able to negotiate rights to sharing Michael's sleeping bag, and that made their torture just barely bearable.


	3. heavier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ramseys' bed manages to be just big enough for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to preface this by saying that i am an asexual person who has never had sex nor experienced arousal, so if this feels off to you, that's probably why! i have zero experience with any of it, outside of fics i've read. it's a pretty difficult feeling to catch even for allosexual people, and i know i'm not the best at it, so i'd ask that you bear with me and let me know if you've got any feedback.
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

Footsteps creaked onto the tile of the kitchen and Gavin smiled, a shy smile meant for himself, and he just kept pouring the orange juice until hands descended on his hips and someone's lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck, just above his collar.

"Mornin', boy," Michael mumbled, swaying up against him. "Did you make us food?"

"Yeah," Gavin said, the picture of modesty. "Omelettes 'n' toast. And I'm pouring juice."

"Oh, 's that _so_?" Michael said with exaggerated surprised. "I picked the perfect housewife, huh?" Fingers brushed up against the skin above the waistband of his boxers. "Good boy." Another kiss, just where his jaw met his neck, and Gavin shuddered. He could feel his cock twitch against the counter.

"Oi," Geoff said from behind them, bumping the collective entity that was Gavin-and-Michael with his hip. "Food now, fuck after, let's go."

Gavin smiled down at the counter. "But Geoffrey, I'm trapped."

"Can't have that," he said, leaning in and giving Michael's cheek a sloppy wet kiss. Michael yelped, darting off, and Geoff grinned. “I saved you, Gavino." He raised his voice. "Michael, you gotta shave, dude! Jesus, you gave my tongue stubble burn!" He stuck it out, as if to prove it.

"Don't harass him," Griffon told him, gliding into the kitchen with a vaguely bewildered-looking Michael in her arms. "Oh, Gav. Thank you. You did so good, baby." She smiled at him. "Geoff, yank."

And then there was a tug on his collar, his spine jerking to follow it, and Gavin nearly melted, falling into it, body slipping across the floor to settle at the table.

"The OJ," he said blankly. He did good. Oh, _bollocks_ , but his head was muzzy from that. Damn them for being so _excellent_.

"We gotcha," Michael said, kissing his hair. A glass was set down in front of him. "How you feeling, boy? Relaxed, nice and rested? We had a good night last night, yeah?"

"Yeah," Gavin said, nodding in the general direction of his plate. "'m good." He looked up at Michael. "I'm really good."

"You bet you are," Michael said, voice soft as down, squeezing his shoulder. He sat down next to him, glancing at Griffon. "Do we wanna--"

"Yeah," Geoff said for her, stretching over the table for the salt. "You want us to gangbang you, Gavino? That sound nice?"

Gavin squirmed in his chair. "Yeah." A little smile spread over his face. "Sounds top."

"Eat first," Griffon said, nodding Gavin back into sitting down. "Geoff just said, before he wildly contradicted himself, food first, fuck later."

"It was for the sake of my dick," Geoff protested, but she waved him off with her hand and a fond little shake of her head.

Gavin smiled then, because they were so lovely, and there was a funny thing that happened--the smile spread around the table, to all of them, and then he just couldn't stop grinning. There was something absolutely gorgeous about being able to make three really good people smile like mad.

* * *

And then there was making sure those three good people got the best sex he could offer them, and that was an entirely different beast.

He was laid out on the bed, all naked, collar hooked in two different places to cords that were wound around the bedpost. His ankles were tied down, too, but only because he was, in Michael's words, "gonna flop around like an epileptic fish" when he got fucked. Now only his hips could flop around like an epileptic fish, and Michael had asked if he wanted to tie that down, too, but Gavin was determined that he could be good all by himself. 

"You ready, sweetie?" Griffon asked him, carding fingers through his hair, and he nodded. He'd been ready a long time ago.

She nodded back, kissing him on the nose. "Okay. We're gonna start the scene. Remember, yellow for slow down, red for stop the whole thing, don't feel bad if you get overwhelmed. If we ask you to check in and you don't say green, then we'll stop then, too. Okay?"

"I'm okay, Griffon," Gavin said, bouncing impatiently on the bed. "Lemme get all of you off. Please," he added, in case the desperate tone in his voice wasn't enough to get them moving.

Michael chuckled. "Impatient." He pulled off his shirt, dropping it on the floor. "I'm going to fuck you. Like usual. I like fucking you, you know that? You take it so well."

Gavin licked his lips. Yeah. Yeah he did. Fuck him already. His dick was hard, exposed, right there for all of them to see or laugh at, but nobody did, just looked at him with this mixture of admiration and arousal. _Lovely_ human beings, had he mentioned?

"And I've got something else for you," Griffon said, nearly purring. "Only two at a time, though. Shame you've only really got the two things worth fucking.”

Gavin opened his mouth, to explain that nobody should really fuck his mouth, because he'd probably gag and vom on them and that wasn't hot at all, but she reached over and slipped her fingers into his mouth before he could say a word. "Suck."

He obeyed, tasting something sweet - jam, maybe, from breakfast? - on her fingers, and closed his eyes, to feel everything better.

He definitely felt it when a cold, slick finger started rubbing at his entrance, opened his eyes, found Michael naked and kneeling over his legs, smirking at his face.

"Ah-ah-ah," Griffon said, smooth as butter, tapping at his lips. "You look at me. Michael's just taking care of that hole. I have charge of your face, don't I, Gavin?"

He nodded enthusiastically, eyes trained on her face, and stuck out his tongue, to show that he was ready to use it for her.

She laughed. "You really are impatient. Hold on." She slipped out of her top, and then her jeans, leaving on her panties and her bra, and left Gavin lying there staring at her back as she walked up to Geoff, hips swaying, head a little tilted.

And then they were kissing, so heatedly that Gavin almost wished they'd come over and do that to him, but it was like--preparation, maybe. They hadn't done this before, either, after all.

Griffon slid onto Geoff's lap, ground against his crotch, kissed him one more time. "I'm gonna make Gavin get me off," she told him. "Cool?"

"Hell yeah," Geoff said, grinning. "Go ahead. I got a good view."

When Griffon pulled off Gavin noticed for a split second that Geoff had his trousers undone, and then Griffon was approaching him, and was pulling off her panties, and he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

"I'm going to ride your tongue," she told him, fingers returning to touch his hair. "Got it?"

He nodded, opened his mouth to show he was ready, accidentally let out a little squawk.

Michael was cackling from between Gavin's legs, where he'd just pushed in without any warning--well, warning, he'd fingered him, but that wasn't enough warning, was it? "You little dork," he said, squeezing the base of Gavin's cock, making him whine again. "Take Griffon. I'm just a sideshow."

Gavin still had his mouth open, didn't want to nod so Griffon would just get on him already, but that seemed to be enough assent for the two of them, so Griffon, still with her bra on, climbed atop the bed, settled across Gavin's mouth.

"You tell me if I'm too heavy," she said sternly, rolling her hips into his mouth, and Gavin moaned into the wetness. God, God, so good, lying there getting used from both ends, he could do this _forever_.

And then a hand tangled in his hair and yanked. "Use your tongue," Griffon hissed. "This is nothing."

Gavin obediently stuck his tongue out again, tasted her, murmured something nonsensical into the warmth between her legs. He searched for a second, trying to stay relatively still despite Michael pushing in at the rate of 'agonizingly slow' below his waist, and then his tongue found her clit, teased it. She hummed, rolling her hips again, and he did his best to kiss it, to lick away her wetness.

"More," she demanded, and Gavin only had one tongue, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to obey anyways. He tilted his head a little until his tongue was lined up with her cunt, curled into it, and this time Griffon moaned in earnest. He smiled, still watching her face, wondering if Geoff was getting off to this. Probably. That was a perfect thought.

Michael was fucking him now, properly, with a rhythm, and he tried to divide his head so that he could figure out that rhythm and work Griffon open at the same time, and once he had he fucked into her with the same rhythm that was being fucked into him. Her hands were running along his shoulders, arms, collarbone, squeezing or yanking his collar when she was particularly enjoying something, which was often, and he wondered idly, head fuzzy like he was about to fall asleep, would he have bruises there later? He wouldn't mind if he did, really. He liked the marks.

"Oh--God," Michael gasped, an echo in Gavin's head, and he could vaguely feel cum pooling warm and heavy inside of him. Not as good as marks, but good all the same, a perfect weight.

"Fuck," Griffon was saying, "fuck, fuck, fuck," and Gavin took that to mean fuck her harder so he did, nearly gagging with a particularly hard thrust, and then he pulled out his tongue entirely, to focus on the outside, to find her clit again.

His ass felt stretched, still full, and his mouth ached, and he was so perfectly used that when Griffon came, jerking all around him, squeezing his arm so hard he knew he'd have bruises the shape of her hands - relished it - he nearly came too. Would have if he didn't need to get Geoff off first.

Griffon was heavy on his jaw, slack, and then her weight was gone, replaced by fingers in his hair and kisses peppered onto his cheek.

"Geoff," he slurred, like he was drunk. He wasn't, it was just sort of like the feeling. "Geoff, come on. Come here. Come."

There was a faint laugh. "Okay, okay, buddy." A pause. Maybe he was communicating with the other two via poly-telepathy, or something, because Gavin had his eyes closed, trying to get his head on proper, but it didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"Dunno what I want," Geoff said finally, and Gavin opened his eyes, blinking up at him.

"Anything," Gavin told him. "Anything, I'll do it."

"Mm, but, Gav," he said, pulling down his boxers. "There's too much to choose from. Where do I even begin?"

"You could," Gavin began, and then stopped abruptly, guilty. "Ah. Well. Your pick."

"No, no, give me your idea," Geoff said, his fingers joining Griffon's in Gavin's hair. He was kneeling on the mattress, dick just barely touching Gavin's chest, teasing him.

"Y'know," Gavin said vaguely. "You could, ah, on the face, yeah?"

Geoff stared at him for a second, and then he laughed. "Oh, God, you're hot. All right. Eyes closed, I'm not going to give you fucking pinkeye, Gav."

Gavin obeyed, and he could feel Griffon shaking in laughter next to him, but she stayed quiet.

The only sound in the room was Geoff's breath, quickening with every thrust--Gavin assumed--and then there was warmth all over his face, dripping into his mouth, a tiny bit bitter but wet and perfect. God, he was a mess, they'd used him so well, he would kiss all of them into eternity if he wouldn't be getting Geoff's cum all over their lips.

"Clean me up," Geoff demanded, and Gavin opened his mouth, eyes still screwed tight, and sucked the last of his cum off his cock, humming in satisfaction as he let himself come. He'd been good, he thought. He was allowed.

There was a period of absence for a moment, nobody touching him, and then the restraints on his collar loosened and his legs were undone, massaged by hands that Gavin recognized as Michael's. Someone else wiped his face with a warm, damp washcloth, and then they touched his forehead. "It's okay, Gav. Eyes open for me?" Griffon.

He obeyed, blinking up at her.

"Scene's over, sweetheart," she said gently. "How're you feeling?"

"Was I good?"

She smiled. "You were so good. I'm proud of you. How's your head, all right? Are you cold?"

"Mmm," he said, considering this. "Don't think so."

She went for his hand, squeezed it. "Yeah, you are. Come on, you wanna have a bath? We're gonna give you a bath, sweetie."

"D'need it," he mumbled. Leave him in bed. He'd stay in bed and they could come back and fuck him again whenever they wanted to. It would be a little slice of heaven.

He recognized Geoff's hysterical laughter. "Gav, you are absolutely covered in spunk. Come on, buddy, we're gonna give you a bath, you heard the lady."

Gavin sat up, very slowly, cum sliding down his cheek. His head was a bit spinny, but that was okay.

"Stand up," Griffon told him, a cool hand to his back, and he shook his head.

"Can't," he explained. "Legs are all...dunno." He could feel them, vaguely, but they felt so strange that he wasn't sure he trusted them to know they were legs.

"Oh boy," Griffon said in a sigh. "Come on, Michael, come help us."

He closed his eyes again, let himself be picked up, hands circling every bit of him. He could at least hold up his head, and he did, and that was good, because they put him in the bathtub and he guessed that someone had already filled it up with water.

The rest of the day was fuzzy. Soap suds and towels and kisses to his forehead, blankets, a lot of blankets. He took a long nap with Michael curled up against his waist and Geoff at his feet, playing Viva Pinata with Griffon at his feet, sketching something. Gavin could tell because he recognized the sound of graphite going furiously at paper; happened often enough in this house.

He woke up properly that afternoon, blinked into Michael's face, kissed him a little. "How come I've got morning breath if it's evening?"

"'Cause you just slept, dummy," Michael mumbled. "You awake?"

"Yeah," Gavin said. "Didn't think I'd be so sleepy."

Michael was sitting up, so he did, too. "Neither did we. You slept most of the day, missed lunch. Geoff's outside making barbeque, I think Griffon's in the shop."

"Oh," Gavin said. "Did I--was that--"

Michael grinned. "Yeah, boy. Yeah. Of course, you were perfect." He leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, so tender Gavin thought his bones might all liquify at once. "How about doing that again sometime? Maybe get you to the point where you can stay awake through the aftercare?" He was smiling.

"Oh, ah," Gavin said, suddenly bewildered. "Aftercare?"

Michael tilted his head. "The bath. And then we carried you to the couch. You don't remember all of that? You were mostly asleep through a lot of it, I'll admit."

Gavin took in this information. "Uh-huh."

"Did you not sleep last night or something?"

"No, I, maybe," Gavin said, shrugging. He hadn't, not at all. He'd been really excited, and it hadn't helped that they kept giving him these naughty glares during the movie. All he could think about lying there with them was what they were going to do the next day. "It was a lot."

"You deserve a lot," Michael said, hand wrapping around his back.

 _Right_ , Gavin thought, swallowing hard, but Michael was leaning into him and smiling and he didn’t want to say anything that would make him upset. Not when he seemed so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it for my 10k! don't worry, guys, this is just the first half; the rest is in the works. :)


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